Five Months LaterALAYNAI’m having quesadillas for lunch. I remembered when you made this for me. I miss your cooking – Brandon.That was Brandon’s text yesterday and a lot similar to the texts in the last five months. He texts me every day. At times he will send me a heart emoji, which is so unlike him, but it still puts a smile on my face. Sometimes he will tell me he misses me.
I never reply. I’m too guarded, especially with my feelings. I wouldn’t know if he were texting with another woman in his bed. I wish I were strong enough to reply and ask him whether he married Pauline. We parted a half year ago, and my heart shattered. I hurt him in a way, too, but these simple messages keep my heart intact, keep me going. I foolishly love him even more, although he’s oceans away.
I wondered what he’s doing. What’s he eating? Is he eating well? What’s he wearing? Is he wearing a suit now or a t-shirt because he’s home? What time does he sleep? Is it the same as in the mansion? I want to ask him all that, but my pride has already convinced me that he’ll eventually stop. A part of me just wants to stop hoping.
Especially today, I haven’t received his daily message yet.
“Where’s the special order for number twelve?! Table number twelve!” Rexy shouts in the kitchen, but as soon as she steps into the dining room, Michael spills the soup on her uniform and she shrieks as it burns her arm. “Oh my God, Mike!”
Rexy isn’t actually here to take orders; she’s a skilled chef specializing in spices, but she probably happened to run into an impatient customer.
“Sorry!” Michael, the waiter, immediately drops to his knees and gathers the pieces of the shattered bowl.
There are only five people in La Mia Cucina. The Italian restaurant belonging to Oliver and me is located at N 45 Street in Seattle. Three of the kitchen members are also my best buddies from back in Venice. It’s incredible how we all reunited through social media.
But like I expected, with Oliver’s connections, the restaurant became the bomb. We didn’t go through too much marketing because he knew an advertising company that helped us promote.
Michael approaches Dennis, my sous-chef, with an apologetic face, asking for another bowl of soup.
“Is that for table twelve?” I ask. The only thing left on my dish is the parmesan and the toppings. I just re-invented Frutti di MariMichael scratches his head and nods, but Dennis reprimands him. Still, he hands Mike another bowl. Mike picks it up carefully and takes it outside.
“He’s slow,” Dennis complains. “He needs to be trained more.”
“I’ll leave it to you. Your toughness will make them listen to you more than to me.” I chuckle. I open my mouth to call for a waiter, but Sally is already next to me.
“I’ll take that! Table eight.” She grins and swiftly takes the plates.
“That’s what fast means,” Dennis remarks, watching our young waitress rush out of the kitchen. Rexy then moves to my side and finishes chopping the ingredients she left aside earlier.
This is how life has been for me for the last four weeks. It is pretty tiring but enjoyable. This is my dream—I am living the dream.
Still, it’s thanks to Ollie. Everything became possible because of him.
However, this is also the fourth week since he left Seattle to go back to Athens. He didn’t precisely tell me when he will return. He’s never texted or called me since either. He’s just... gone.
When we said our goodbyes, I found it hard to let him go, as he is the only person left who reminds me of Brandon—that he actually existed in my life. Now, everything went back to the time when none of them were revolving around me.
Nonetheless, I’m living a new life, with new people, in a new environment.
My life is quiet, and the quiet is almost deafening. I’m living the dream, but I’m not very happy. I feel somehow empty inside.
TWO MONTHS AGO...“Congratulations, Alayna.” Oliver hugged me and smiled. He was about to board a plane in twenty minutes. “You’re finally an owner of your own restaurant.”
“Co-owner,” I corrected. “No, it’s thanks to you, Ollie.” My chest was already about to explode. His eyes showed he was sad about his departure, but we both knew he couldn’t stay in Seattle forever.
After the opening of La Mia Cucina, Oliver was going to leave. I knew from the very start that today was the day. I just couldn’t believe time flew by so fast. Only two months had passed since we left Lawrence. Since I broke up with his cousin.
He pulled me in his arms, and it finally hit me; we were really saying goodbye.
Just like Brandon, who left that day without telling anyone, taking Pauline with him and his cousins. It was Ollie’s turn. I, at least, got to see his face. I hugged him back, my heart aching at the fact that I might not see him again.
I cried so hard last night that I thought I had no more tears. I already felt nostalgic at the moments we’d all shared together.
“Goodbye, Ollie.”
He didn’t answer, but he breathed out sharply and squeezed me tightly against him. “I’m going to miss you, Alayna. I’m going to call you, but I can’t promise when.”
“I’ll wait for it.” I swallowed my tears. “I’m going to miss you, Ollie. You’ve been a very faithful and thoughtful friend to me. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
“You’ll be fine,” he assured in a whisper. “You’re a strong woman.” He parted away from me and cupped my cheeks. He then wiped my tears with his thumb. “Don’t cry. It’ll be hard for me to leave.”
I chuckled between tears. “No, you should go. Of course, I’ll be fine. I’m not alone now. I’m with my friends and my family. Thank you for what you’ve done for me. For making everything possible.”
He gave a half-smile. “Always for you.” He leaned closer and pressed a light kiss on my forehead. “Goodbye, Alayna.”
I didn’t want to watch him leave, but I couldn’t help trying to get the last glimpse of him to store in my memories. How handsome and graceful he looked; how fondly he smiled at me one last time...
***
The restaurant closes at nine every day during weekdays and at ten o’clock on weekends. So far, the revenue has exceeded our expectations. La Mia Cucina offers a wide range of Italian dishes for all ages. My partners and I are very keen on business planning, and while I’m the head chef, I am mostly in charge of the menu.
Mom is in the living room in front of the TV when I return home. She will usually wait for me while the kids are already in their beds. Her condition is getting better through continuous medication too. To be honest, despite all the loneliness, everything is falling into place. I’m a co-owner and the head chef of my dream restaurant, all my siblings are in school, and my mother’s health is improving.
But there’s still a hole in my heart that can’t be filled with all those things alone. I still can’t move on, or better yet, I’m not ready to fully let go.
Mom has fallen asleep on the couch with the TV on. I carefully approach to wake her up, but she opens her eyes even before I can speak.
“Oh, honey.” She is slightly surprised. “I fell asleep.”
I perch next to her, giving her a tight hug. “You don’t have to wait for me, Mom. If you’re sleepy, you can just go to bed without me, okay?”
She yawns. “I have to make sure you’ll eat your dinner. What kind of chef skips dinner all the time?”
I laugh. “Did you forget that I’m working around food all day? All those food tastings in the restaurant are making me full.”
“Proper food, Laynie. Proper. I’m sure you understand what that means.”
I giggle and squeeze her against me. “Fine. But I’m craving ice cream more.”
I spring up and walk over to the fridge, but there’s no ice cream left. “Mom!” I shout from the dining room. The new place isn’t as spacious as our previous one in Lawrence, but it is much more modern, and everything I could possibly want has been provided. Except for ice cream. The kids probably ate the last of it. “I’m just going to the convenience store, okay?”
“Hurry up!” She yawns again as she rises from the couch. “I’ll prepare your dinner.”
I pick up my coat and my purse and rush back outside.
Each step I take in this place is the path toward my new beginning. I’m convinced that everything that happened to me over the past year is just a part of life’s challenges that I need to overcome.
I can’t forget, but I need to move forward. The dreams are recurring. I should try to stop crying each night, but every time I tell myself that I’ll be fine, I end up wetting my pillows. I should not let hope into my heart that I might see Brandon again just because he’s making an effort to send me those messages every day. We aren’t compatible from any angle, and we’ve never had a proper relationship anyway. He is probably fully committed to take revenge on those who harmed him and his family. Or maybe he already married Pauline for the alliance.
But I don’t think I can love anyone as much as I love him. He is the only one.
I walk into the convenience store, grab some containers of vanilla ice cream, and pay at check out. I exit the store and head to the road I’ve come from when suddenly a silky black Mercedes sports car stops in front of me. It doesn’t seem to fit the neighborhood. My heart lurches, and fear spikes in my chest. There’s no one else around at this hour, so I decide to turn around and run back to the convenience store. I march as fast as possible because I swear I heard the door slam, and someone gets out.
But just when I reach the door of the store, I spin around, and my senses fail me when I find myself looking into Brandon’s beautiful eyes. He looks slightly different from my memory of him. There is a perfectly trimmed stubble on his face that makes him manlier and sexier.
My imagination must be messing with me. The image is so real.
“I thought that was you,” he whispers, his eyes fixed on me.
I’m suddenly immobilized. What the hell is happening?
Slowly, I lift my hand and touch his cheek. I definitely felt something on my fingertip.
“Are you real?” I mumble, then shake my head. “No, you’re not.”
“Alayna?” He cocks his head to the side and waves his hand in front of my face.
My lips part. But before I could even speak, Brandon pulls me into his arms. His hand caresses my back, and I feel his smile on my hair. He holds me so tight I can’t breathe. He isn’t talking, just squeezing me against him, the warmth of his fingers penetrating the fabric of my shirt.
“Well, aren’t you going to say something?” he whispers.
He’s real. He’s really here. This isn’t a dream.
“Why are you here?” is all I can say.
His eyes gleam. “I do remember texting you that I was coming to see you soon, or are you not reading my messages?”
I clear my throat and nod. “I read everything.”
“Good, then you know I’m here for you.”
“But this can’t be...”
He nuzzles my neck and kisses my shoulder. No, it can’t be this easy. I move away from him. I can’t open my heart again.
“Why are you here?” I insist.
He frowns. “Didn’t I answer that question already?”
“When are you leaving again?” I have to ask. I have to be ahead of events.
“I just came, and you already want me to leave?” he teases, pulling me to him once more. I feel him smiling against my neck. And God, I almost give in.
“When? Tonight? Tomorrow? Next week?” I manage to move back. “You shouldn’t have come.” He is going to leave again. That’s for sure because he always has. He is going to drive me completely insane.
He catches my wrist. “I’m not leaving.”
“I can’t believe that. You’ve said that before.” I yank away from him, but he grabs my hand again and pulls me against his body. I’ve been keeping myself from inhaling his wood and mild peppermint male perfume, but it’s too late for that now. My nostrils have welcomed the scents.
“I’m not leaving you“Go away, Brandon,” I try to resist while I’m still able to.
“Why won’t you believe me?” he asks softly. Unfortunately, my attempt at resistance doesn’t work on him.
“Did you get married?”
He laughs almost in delight. I almost want to jump on him, to hell with all this resistance. “Would I be here if I had? Pauline is going to marry someone else next year.”
“And those people who were after us—” I clear my throat. “I mean, you?”
Brandon brushes his thumb over my cheek, and it lingers there. “If you want to hear the whole story, you have to take me back.”
“Why do you always make it sound so easy? We’ve broken up.”
“Why do you always make it sound so complicated? Just take me back,” he retorts, still beaming.
“That’s it? Brandon, this too sudden. I don’t even know how you found me—”
His thumb moves to my lip, shutting me up. He searches my eyes. “I’m back, Alayna. Back for you and only you. Believe me now, because if you don’t, I’m going to have to force you to marry me...”